100 Marching Band One Shots
by Tory Must Write
Summary: Take a peek into the lives of a small-town marching band. Romance blooms, friendships grow and crumble, and the students learn about themselves. What could possibly go wrong? Back from the depths of my computer! R&R!
1. 1: Introduction

**1. Introduction (Mr. Scott's POV, Hayden's Seventh Grade Year)**

I looked over the cluster of kids sitting cross-legged before me, many of them clutching their instruments in their laps. Almost all of them I already knew from the previous school year. But there were three small, scared-looking faces that I didn't recognize. I took a deep breath. "Welcome to band camp, HC Marching Band. Yeah, I know, this isn't really a camp, but we don't have the time and resources to go to a real one. So deal."

A few of the older kids chuckled, and I saw the little brunette girl smile at her male companion. The redhead between them smiled up at me. "Would all the seniors please stand up?" I asked.

The four seniors got up, and Greg started the applause. He continued to clap even after they had sat back down on the grass. "Collins!" I yelled. "Shut up!"

He stuck out his tongue at me and casually stuck up his middle finger. I smiled and shook my head. The guy was nuts, and also about twice as old as me. He was also an amazing drumline instructor, and that was the reason I needed him.

"Juniors?"

Six kids got up, my best (and only) sousaphone player, my best drumliner, my best trombone player, my best trumpeter, and my best piccolo player among them. I had to say, my now-junior class had so much talent, it was pouring out of their ears. They got a huge round of applause, once again started by Collins. He started sticking his fingers in his mouth and whistling. "Go Mason!" That group sat down, lead snare Mason red in the face.

I put a fake 'Scott is angry' look on my face. "Collins, what part of 'Shut up' do you not understand?"

He touched his chin for a moment. "All of it."

The whole band burst out laughing, and I couldn't help looking at the three younger kids. The boy and the redhead were chuckling quietly, while the brunette was laughing extremely loudly. She already seemed to be fitting in.

"Sophomores!"

Three stood, including my second-best piccolo and my best Pit member. They all sat down quickly before they received too much clapping.

"Freshmen!"

Four freshmen got up off the grass, and only one of them remained standing after about a minute. "George, sit down!" I motioned with my hand.

"What if I don't want to, Scott?" He asked in an obnoxious voice.

"Then you shall have to deal with me… The Terminator!" Mr. Collins said in a deep voice.

Dustin George laughed, and Hunter, one of the sophomores, pulled him back to the ground. "Hats! Ouch!" The freshman yelled out.

"Thanks Hats." I said, and then got back on track. "Eighth graders!"

Ten of the almost-youngest students stood up. Three trumpeters, one saxophonist, one mellophone player, four drumliners, and one trombonist made up the eighth graders. The saxophonist was seriously one of the best I had seen in all my years. It would be kind of pathetic to say he was the best I had seen in my teaching career, since I had only been teaching for three years.

"Okay. Seventh graders stand up and loudly say your name and instrument." I called out.

The three youngest kids got up. The redhead spoke first, kind of softly, speaking only to me. "Olivia Carter, clarinet." She quickly sat down back on the grass.

The boy was next. "Simon Peters, drumline, I guess." He, too, spoke quietly, but at least he had turned to face the band. His brown, almost black, hair stood in irregular little tufts all around his head. He then joined the girl on the grass.

Only the brunette girl was last. I noticed she had very pointed features, black and white (School colors!) braces, and black-framed glasses with thick lenses. She turned to face the entire band, and spoke in a loud and carrying, but not show-off, voice. "Hayden Peters. Clarinet."

She turned back around, and I saw the wide smile spread on her face. She sat down on the ground. I took a long breath, and then smiled as well. I stood with my hands clasped behind my back.

"Well, enough with the introductions. Now let's get down to business."

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, I had this story up before. But I had to make some minor changes so my plots were all set straight. Plus I changed some names around and such. So, yes, I'm quite sorry if you reviewed the old ones... So review these ones instead? *Big smile*_


	2. 5: Seeking Solace

**5. Seeking Solace (Rhett's POV, Summer Before Senior Year)**

At the rate it was going, I thought my heart was going to pound itself right out of my chest cavity. My hands clenched tighter on the set of drumsticks. The way she had called out my name, yesterday when she had fallen off the stool behind the marimba after I had bumped her… It was almost enough to make me slap myself for being so stupid to the girl that was everything to me. But, in my head, a small voice kept repeating, _"She's already going out with someone. Deal with it. In her own words: Cry me a river, build a bridge, get over it, and burn the bridges you crossed."_

That little quote she had said quite often to Jean in the past years got a chuckle out of me. I heard footsteps behind me, and I turned around to face the door of the band room. Zeke strode in, scratching the back of his head with his own set of sticks. "Hey, dude!" He dropped the drumsticks in his back pocket and whipped off his sunglasses one-handed. "Dude, I haven't seen you since before I went on vacation. How's being Battery Section Leader treating you?"

"Shitty, Zeke. Shitty." I covered my eyes with my hands. "I'm freakin' _Section Leader_ and I still can't get what I want!"

A confused look planted itself firmly on Zeke's face. "Wait? Is Kris not listening to you _again_? Cause if he isn't I can st-"

"It's not Kris. It has nothing to do with the actual Line. Wait, yeah, it, wait no it… Well, it sort of does, but it doesn't."

"Does it, or doesn't it? Or does it involve Indoor Drumline?" Zane questioned.

I thought for a moment. Well, she was… "Yeah. It involves one of the mallet players for Indoor."

"What happened with you and Hayden?"

"Zeke, I never said it was her!"

"You should've." He nodded. "It would've made your life easier. So what went down?"

I took a long, deep, calming breath. "I think… I… Zeke, I think I'm in _love_ with her."

Zeke's eyes got wide, and I remembered he still had his graduated girlfriend, Charity. I had almost completely forgotten about that. It might have changed his judgment. "Dude, as far as Linus and I know, she's still going out with Hats. It's going to be their three-year anniversary in a few weeks. Dude, you can't. Hats is my buddy, too, and if you hurt her and it hurts him, I'll hurt you. I'm sorry, but it's not right."

Tears clouded my eyes. "Zeke, I know it's not right, but I can't help it. It's just… I love her more than I love myself. She's… she's a _part_ of me. She's like my sister."

"And if she was your real sister, it would be illegal to go out with her. So act like this is just the same situation."

He gave me a small smile, and he turned to walk over to his bass. I felt my heart tear to shreds. Even _Zeke_ didn't understand how I felt.

"Stupid hormones!" I hissed.

I reeled back and punched one of the cabinets.


	3. 17: Blood

**17. Blood (Jameson's POV, Ninth Grade)**

I held my sax at attention, waiting for Candace to start the run-through of the halftime show. It was nearly silent on the field, the only noise the rippling of the guard's silks in the steady breeze. Candace's hands moved swiftly, and I brought the mouthpiece to its place. On the fourth count, the drumline burst into the start of the song. The entire band scattered across the grass, from end-zone to end-zone, even though that basically meant there were four lines with twelve people in each.

I marched over to one of the ten-yard lines, flashing my sax to the box every five yards. All the low brass, plus the saxes (All three of us), came in the eighth measure. I let the notes blare out, trying to carry the first alto sax part out as far as it could go. I felt my feet slide into place on the field, felt the thrum of my instrument under my fingers. I was in the zone.

At least I was, until a horrible shriek pierced the air, louder and higher-pitched than Candace's whistle. The entire band broke ranks and looked towards the source. Candace had hopped down from her drum major stand. She was down by the two first clarinets. Okay, I could only see one from here, the section leader, Summer. I felt my heart tug, and I knew immediately who had yelled.

"Somebody go to the band room and get an ice pack!" The drum major's voice rang out commandingly.

One of the guard members went tearing across the grass back towards the school. "And some paper towels!" Summer's voice was high-pitched, per usual. "Lots of paper towels! Hayden's down for the count!"

A few people from all sections of the band went running over to the small group gathered by the first clarinetist, me among them. "What happened?" Ryan yelled as he ran over, trying to hurry with his sousaphone on his shoulders.

Hunter Tyler spoke up as he slowly started to walk over from the pit. His voice was grim. "She was marching to her spot. And one of the flag-ettes got at-"

"Silks!" The guard captain screamed.

"Okay, okay." Hunter raised his hands in surrender. "One of the silks got attacked by her _silk _and it got in her line of vision. So she backed up, and the end of the pole went flying and conked Hayden in the nose. And to add fuel to the fire, the wind caught one of the majorette's batons and it went flying and hit her in the head before she went fully down. At least that's what we saw."

He gestured to his fellow pit members, who nodded sadly. "That's what I saw, too." Candace said from her spot on the ground by the eighth-grader.

I peeked around some shoulders and saw Hayden on the ground. I felt my stomach drop, and quickly looked away before the food rose up in my throat. Her nose looked a royal mess, and there was blood pouring from it. Her entire face was a bloody disaster and some of it was dripping down onto her shirt. I heard somebody give an anguished cry as they came over closer.

Hunter pushed his way past everyone and went down on his knees by Candace, right by Hayden's head. My heart went out to the poor guy, seeing his fake little sister in _this_. It was really difficult for any of us to see her like this. She was one of the strongest people in the entire band, even compared to some of the drumliners.

"I'm back!" The guard member came back, carrying an ice pack and a roll of paper towels. She dropped them between Hunter and Candace.

The focused drum major scooped up the paper towels and began dabbing gently on Hayden's face. The small girl let out a cry of anguish as she woke up to her probably aching face being touched without her permission. She jerked out of the way, her arms flailing. I felt my stomach twitch as her dark brown eyes appeared from the mass of red.

I saw Hunter's hand reach out and grab both of her hands. There was an extremely hurt look in his eyes. He lowered himself to her ear and whispered something. She stopped flailing immediately after. Her smile appeared, and her eye's connected with Hunter's. I looked away quickly, feeling like I was intruding on something private.

Candace cleaned up Hayden's face gently but thoroughly. The younger girl made little squeaks of pain as the paper towels passed over her face, and she squeezed Hunter's hand even tighter. After a few moments, Hayden's face was totally cleared of blood and there was a huge wad of bloodstained paper towels beside her. Her nose had finally cut out its bleeding, and we were all grateful.

Candace grasped one of Hayden's hands, the one that Hunter gave up. Both of the older band members got up and hoisted Hayden until she was standing. Hunter handed her the ice pack, which she happily held to the center of her face. The three of them staggered off to go lay Hayden under the cool shade of the bleachers until she was feeling one hundred percent better. Hunter stayed behind as Candace came back.

"It's not broken." She said simply.

And it settled the matter completely. It's over. Hayden's okay. Case closed.


	4. 33: Expectations

**33. Expectations (Mr. Collins's POV, Hayden's Freshman Year)**

I stood at the front of the newly renovated band room, flipping through the Pit and Battery part of the show on the first day of band camp. It was only 7:30 in the morning, and camp was supposed to start in half an hour. But I already heard a car sputtering to a stop in the parking lot. Literally, _sputtering_, and then what sounded like the car dying.

"Shit!"

"Crap!"

Two voices intermingled in a chorus of shouts and yells and cusses and swears. In an instant, I recognized who the voices were. Hunter, the senior that had been appointed Pit leader by his junior year, was the one who was doing most of the cussing. Hayden, the freshman clarinet section leader and Hunter's girlfriend, was the one yelling loudly but without the vulgarity. Out of all the girls that had ever been in a drumline, she was the most well-mannered, at least when she was in front of adults. I hesitated to hear her whenever she was around the four other mallet players for percussion ensemble.

She was first through the door, and I had to double-take to recognize her. Her usually pale skin was a deep Italian olive shade, her thick-lensed glasses must have been done away with so her near-black eyes shone brightly, the features on her face seemed to have gone pointed and matured, and her hair was now a deep copper and set into gentle corkscrews. She glanced up from her own feet. "Collins!" She yelled out, starting to run across the room and gave me a double high-five. "Hats's car sort of just died in the parking lot. Does your van have jumper cables?"

I thought long and hard. "I don't think… But Scott might have some."

She sighed, long and drawn-out. "I seriously hope. Or I'll have to A. Call my mum or B. Walk home and leave Hats to fend for himself after camp today."

I gave a chuckle. Since almost all of her band friends were on Battery or Pit, she had gained their mentality, but especially Hunter's philosophies. I often heard her walking around saying things like, 'An eye for both of theirs.' or 'Music is like candy bars. Better without the (w)rappers.'

Hunter himself walked through the door as soon as those quotes crossed my mind. He had a very sour look on his face, but brightened slightly as he saw me at the front of the room. "My rotten luck." He muttered. "Of course, my car breaks down. Mine. Always."

"Expectations." Hayden piped up.

"Wait, what?" Hunter turned to face her.

"Expectations." She repeated, grinning. "With a season starting this crappy, you can only expect it to get better."

Damn her. She was always so optimistic. Eh, since nobody else was, she had a reason. And that was the bright spot in our lives. A bright spot by the name of Hayden Jayne Peters.


	5. 35: Hold My Hand

**35. Hold My Hand (Hats's POV, Sophomore Year)**

I hopped eagerly from foot to foot as we stood in the long line. "God, this is a long line!" I finally exclaimed, taking off my hat for a moment.

The girl in front of me turned around and gave me a wide smile, showing off her black braces. "Hats, we're in the Fast Pass line. Think about the poor people in the normal line."

I paused, scratched my head, and placed my hat back on. "True." I finally said, wiping my brow in the hot Florida heat. "I feel bad for them."

The girl began jumping around like a lunatic, her long brown ponytail bouncing up and down. "This is going to be awesome!" She squealed, grabbing my hand and pulling it around with her.

I chuckled. "Calm down, my Italian Jumping Bean. We aren't quite to the coaster yet."

She let go of my hand and flung out both her arms. "Just as good as!" She exclaimed, smile still wide and genuinely happy.

I tried mussing up her hair, but it really didn't work because it was pulled tightly into the low ponytail. So I just patted her lightly on the head, and she gently swatted at my outstretched arm. "Hey, Hats and Hayden, pose and look here." Scott appeared over Hayden's shoulder.

Hayden turned to stand right beside me, and I pulled her into a one-armed hug and placed my hat lopsidedly on her head. We both began laughing, and then we heard the click from Scott's camera. He brought it back up on the minute screen, and began to laugh. "That's a keeper." He glanced up at both of us.

We crowded behind him to look at the picture. "Oh, yes." Hayden said, giggling.

The two of us looked so stupid, yet it was the good kind of stupid, the best-friends-forever kind of stupid. Hayden reached for her pack and pulled out her slim camera. "Mine too, Scott." She handed him the camera and pulled herself back close to me.

I pulled her in front of me, and squeezed her, the tip of my hat that she was still wearing touching the underside of my chin, but just barely. My arms wrapped around her, and she put both her hands on my inner arms. "Say..." Mr. Scott couldn't think of anything.

"Double-mallets!" Mr. Collins spoke up from behind Scott.

Hayden and I both burst out into loud laughter at the inside joke, and I couldn't help the gravity-defying smile from crossing my face. There was an audible click, but neither of us moved from our position.

"Come on, we're going in!" Collins yelled loudly, causing some strangers around us to give him dirty looks.

The line surged forward, and I finally let go of Hayden. I took my hat off of her head and began twirling it in between my hands. The short-to-me, tall-for-a-seventh-grade-girl in front of me grabbed my left hand. She gazed up into my eyes with something of fear, and with a jolt, I realized her eyes were the exact same shade of brown as mine. She took a deep breath. "Hats… Hats, I might be kinda scared on this roller coaster. It's really, really fast. Like 60 miles an hour or something like that. What if I get really scared?"

I thought for only a nanosecond. "If you get scared," I paused. "If you get scared, just hold my hand, because everything will be alright."


	6. 41: Teamwork

**41. Teamwork (Devin's POV, Sophomore Year)**

"Get down on your knees, Devin, so I can get on top of you!" Mason called out.

Yes, I know this sounds _very_ dirty, but in reality, it's not. It was only the first day of band camp, and we were already making pyramids. Usually, we made a giant whole-band pyramid on the first day. The following days, we made pyramids with our sections, and it was always a ton of fun. I was always on the bottom row because A. I was strong enough to hold up somebody kneeling on my back (Thanks to constantly moving all the pit percussion) and B. I was also a little on the 'lots to love' side (AKA fat).

Well, we were doing the first day pyramid, and every previous year we had gotten up to five levels. This year, we had lost two marchers, but gained three, so there was one extra person to stick in there somewhere.

"Get down, Lauer!" Mason yelled, and I got down on my hands and knees, ready to brace the weight that was Mason.

I felt one of his bony knees go into the small of my back, and he put his other knee onto Jarhed. The boy next to me began laughing loudly, and shaking from his spasms. "Mason! It tickles! It tickles!" His voice came out high-pitched.

"Ryan, stop moving or I'll ram my drumsticks in your ears." Mason threatened, and all eyes went to the pair he kept in his back pocket.

Ryan took a few deep breaths to calm down. "I'm okay now." He stated.

I slowly felt the amount of weight on my back to be increasing. "How many levels?" I called up.

"We're at five, and we still have three more people." Came the reply from somewhere above me.

I began shaking, feeling my knees and entire body ready to give out. "Hold on, Lauer!" Mason shouted.

"I can't." I struggled to speak.

"Yes, you can." His voice was rough, and vaguely frightening.

"I'm the last one! I'm almost there! Collins, help me up!" Rhett/Ray screamed out, and I could tell the skinny boy was really the last level, the seventh level.

The pressure increased even more. "Everybody look at the camera!" Mr. Scott called out, clutching the digital camera in his hands.

There were about five blinding flashes of white. "Good job, team." Scott always called us a team, not a band, because he felt _band_ was a bit of an understatement. "Seven levels! That's a new record! That's what I call teamwork!"

Then we all collapsed in a heap. _Teamwork_…


	7. 44: Two Roads

**44. Two Roads (Hats's POV, Sophomore Year)**

"Okay, so there're these two roads." Vincent started looking at the rest of us drumliners gathered in the back of the band bus after the Pittsburgh Regional competition. "And the Grim Reaper comes up to you and goes, 'If you take the road on the left, you will live until you are one hundred years old but never get married or have children or have any significant relationships. But you will be rich and powerful and successful. If you take the road to the right, you will die at age thirty-two. You will have a wife, as many children as you wish, and will be happy, though not very rich or highly successful.' Now which road would you choose?"

Vincent left us in silence for a moment, until Gerald spoke up. "Damn, I would take the road on the left."

Ray bit his lower lip. "I'd side with Gerald. I'd go left."

Mason agreed, as did Kris, Zeke, Linus, and Devin. "What about you, Travis?" They all turned to the raven-haired boy sitting against the emergency exit door.

"I'd take the left." He spoke up quickly.

"Hats?" Vincent turned to face me.

I adjusted my hat and closed my eyes. First, I pictured myself as hundred year old man, surrounded by bags of money, but something unfulfilled in my eyes. Then, my internal camera switched. There I was, thirty-two. A little boy was on my shoulders, and a little girl and another boy were wrapped around my legs. A tall woman stood beside me, her hands on the head of a familiar-looking girl. There were smiles on all six faces, and my eyes flew open.

"I'd take…" The little girl that looked so much like Hayden invaded my train of thought. I smiled. "I'd take the right road, no doubt about it."


	8. 60: Rejection

**60. Rejection (Rose's POV, End of Senior Year)**

I hunched over my chair in the band room, slowly putting away the pieces of my trombone. I knew my cousin Olivia was waiting out on the steps outside the room with her best friend, Hayden. I was going to be driving both of them up to my place since there was going to be a small band party at four and they were tagging along.

I glanced up into the mirror that was on the outside of Miranda's trumpet locker, and I didn't like the girl that was staring back at me. A short girl with, even though you couldn't tell it in the reflection, an even shorter temper. The girl had long dirty-blonde hair and pale gray eyes that seemed to show no emotion whatsoever. I sighed at the person I had become. All the stress of being low brass section leader with a crazy nutcase co-section leader, while being assistant drum major and the only girl on the battery for Indoor Drumline had really taken its toll on my looks. Not like I really cared what anyone thought I looked like, but that was beside the point.

So I latched my trombone case shut and turned around to put it in the locker. But the edge of the case hit something hard, and I looked up and saw Mason towering above me. "Hey Mason. You coming to the party later?"

"Yeah, totally. Hey, Rosie, I have a question for you." Mason shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his neck.

"Yeah. Go ahead." I pushed a flyaway strand of my dirty-looking hair behind my ear.

"Would you… Uh… Would ya… Would you…"

"Spit it out, Mason!" I gave him a bright smile.

"Gooutwithme."

"Wait, what?"

Mason sighed. "You heard me the first time, Rosie."

I gave a huge sigh. "Mason, we've gone over this so many times. I love you as a brother, not as any other way."

He stared frowning. "I know, but I can never stop hoping."

"Mason, don't hurt yourself like this. The small smidgen of hope is killing you."

The frown deepened. "So I'll take that as a no, Rosie?"

I sighed and touched the side of the redhead's face gently. "I'm sorry, Mason. But you know it can't happen. I… _we_ just can't."

Mason's hand came up and touched mine gently. There was a broken look behind his chocolate eyes. They looked like they were full to the brim with water, ready to spill over at any moment. I felt my heart tug at his pain, but knew the two of us as a _something_ would hurt him even more. I reached up and gave him a brief hug, and then tried to pull away. But he held me tightly, and I felt somewhere deep inside of me that this was a pivotal moment in my lifetime.

He finally let go of me, and the tears were freely streaming down his face. "Mason, please, you have to-" I started, but he cut me off.

"No, Rose. It doesn't matter anymore. None of it matters anymore." He turned away and walked back to the locker where he stored his stuff. He pulled something out and concealed whatever it was up his sleeve. He walked back over to me. "Take these. Take these, and make sure I never use them again. Make sure I never use any of it again."

He placed them in my hand, and tears sprung up behind my eyes. "Mason, no. You can't give this up. It matters! It matters! It's how you're getting into IUP! It's your scholarship! It's how you're going to make something even greater out of yourself! Please, don't give up. Please… Keep running with it, Mason."

He shook his head. "No, Rose. I give it all up. The scholarship, the free ride to college, everything that has to do with these. I never want to see any of it again."

He turned around, but not before crouching down slightly and kissing my cheek as the tears slid down in silent sobs. He whispered gently in my ear. "I love you, Rose. Don't ever forget that. I love you more than I love myself. More than I love what I just gave up. Goodbye."

And then he was gone.

The sobs continued. I knew Olivia and Hayden would be waiting for me. But at this point, I didn't care. I needed to get all the emotions out. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and let the flood of memories overcome me. Laughing with Mason as we spun round and round in the teacup ride at Disney World. Hugging him tightly after our first Band Night at the county fair in seventh grade. Walking along the main street in town, arm in arm, this Christmas, trying to find the perfect present for Scott. Me sitting in my room, alone, and a gentle tap on the window, Mason peering in. At my desk every Valentine's Day morning since kindergarten, trying to perfect Mason's valentine card, always adding a box of conversation hearts.

I finally gave up. I let my feet give out from under me as I slumped against the rows of blue lockers, my hands unclenching.

The drumsticks fell to the carpeted floor with an echoing clatter.

* * *

_A/N: For some reason, ever since I first published this one, it's been my favorite. I don't know why. Probably all the angst (Quotes_ Wizard Angst_ to self). So yeah... Review, please =] I've only had one person review. And it just so happens I know him IRL, so... Yeah._


	9. 46: Family

**46. Family (Simon's POV, Senior Year)**

I was born into a very musical family. My father's parents were both in a church choir back in the homeland of Italy when they were very young, so their relationship was born in music. My mother's mother was a fantastic pianist, even in the year before the cancer stole her. My mother's father didn't have a way to deal with any instruments, but he would walk around the house, singing. He would sing about the most mundane things, from the flowers blooming to the fact that the sky was an odd orange shade when it peeked over the mountains to the east.

My mother had been pushed into piano when she was a little girl, hopefully carrying on my Grandma Turner's talent. Alas, she didn't. Instead, she found her love and passion in the saxophone. Grandma Turner wasn't exactly ecstatic, but she supported my mother through everything. Pappy Mike… Well, my mother was his only child, so he would go through hell for her.

My father, on the other hand, was forbidden by his strict parents to play 'devil music' instead of the spiritual music they had grown up with and found love in. So my father would fake going over to his best friend's house in his first year of high school, where the two of them would jam out on an old acoustic guitar and a ragtag drum set. My father found his love for guitar in the basement of a dilapidated two-story on the corner of Oak and Third.

During my mother's freshman year and my father's sophomore year, the two of them were thrown together at jazz band auditions. My father had been sitting in a corner, desperately fidgeting with the electric guitar he had borrowed from the band instructor. My mother had walked over beside him, trying to fix the ligature her best friend had accidentally sat on during study hall. The two of them seemed to hit it off right then and there.

In my nuclear family, I am nowhere near the top of the food chain. In fact, I am second-youngest, off of being the middle child by just four minutes. But everyone in our family seems to have the talent… Except, of course, for me.

My older sister, Lea, graduated college nine years ago with her degree in music education. She originally played trombone, but branched out and played any and every instrument she could get her hands on. She had played lead trombone in every band at the school since her sophomore year. She had also decided to marry the choral director at the school where she taught, and then had a son named Isaiah, four years ago.

Josef is my only brother, along with being the most closeted musician in the family. He had hid his love of guitar from my parents for years, deciding instead to hole himself in the practice room for hours on end, plucking at the strings. The first time we ever even knew he could play guitar was the day he plopped a CD in the stereo and announced he had made it himself. He graduated high school the year after Lea, moved to Canada to live with our aunt, and we hadn't heard much of him since.

There's also my younger sister, Yana. She's in seventh grade this year, playing piccolo for marching band and flute for everything else. I always pick on her because she showed an early talent for percussion but didn't want to. From my spot as battery section leader, I try to make her join us. But Hayden always makes me stop the teasing.

Oh. Hayden. She's my twin sister, older by four minutes. We were almost born in different years, actually. Our birthday is December 31st, and I was born second at 11:58 at night. She started on clarinet in fourth grade, branched to alto clarinet the summer before seventh, and somehow learned virtually every woodwind instrument before her freshman year. She's assistant drum major this year, mainly because she wanted to march her final season.

It's not like I hate Hayden. No way. She's one of my best friends. But, of course, being my older twin, she _has_ to be perfect. Or at least everyone thinks.

Nobody else in the entire band had to deal with her breaking down when the head drum major missed Homecoming this year because her cousin died. Hayden was freaking out, mainly because nobody else knew how to conduct the show and she was on Court. So, instead of doing what most people would have done and let the band run themselves, she conducted and merely turned around with a huge smile and a wave when they announced her name.

Nobody else had to deal with the time she almost killed herself because her boyfriend was put in the ICU after a crash on a quad.

Nobody else had to help when Grandma Turner died and Hayden withdrew from everything. The only ones who could even talk to her were me or her boyfriend. And he _tried_ to help, but failed because he didn't know what Grandma was really like.

Hayden's my family. I can't help that. She may be an idiot sometimes that can't keep her head on straight, or who needs to learn there isn't perfection, or who needs to understand we all die sometimes…

But she's my sister.


	10. 50: Breaking the Rules

**50. Breaking the Rules (Mason's POV, Senior Year)**

"Everybody shut up!" I hissed in an undertone, and the faint murmurings behind me ceased.

"Sorry, Mason." A few soft voices came from behind me.

I ignored them and pulled the bobby pin out of the pocket of my jeans. I jimmied it into the keyhole and let out a breath of relief as the door quietly swung inward. I turned to face the nearly one dozen people behind me. "Everyone got everything?" I muttered, and heads nodded up and down in the faint early summer morning sunlight filtering through the dirty windows. I let out another breath. No matter what anyone said, it was still hard to do this year after year. "Okay, then, we're going in."

I could barely make out anything in the cramped ten-by-fifteen foot office. I slowly made my way into the room, and I turned to watch my comrades fall in after me. First came eighth-grade Olivia, the owner of the bobby pin. Behind her were Miranda and Rose, carrying the large white box between them. When they got into the office, they opened the box and set it on the cluttered desk.

After them came Ryan, holding a large bundle of helium balloons, bearing various messages such as HAPPY BIRTHDAY or MERRY CHRISTMAS or HAPPY CHANUKAH or JUST MARRIED. Candace came in behind him, holding Maxwell's hand. I reached out my hand to grasp Maxwell's other one in a near-bone-crushing handshake. "Great you could come back, buddy."

He smiled. "Wouldn't have missed it for anything."

"Don't you think we're breaking the rules?" A whisper came from the hallway.

"Hayden, stop trying to make sense." I muttered as Gerald, Ray, and Devin sputtered into the office carrying a thick cloth, quickly crowding up the space.

"Wait for us." A stage whisper came from outside the door.

Hayden, the other eighth-grader I had the privilege of calling my fake younger sister, and Hats, the short eleventh-grader that had been selected as section leader for the pit, rushed through the door, Hayden unceremoniously dragging Hats by the hand. His face was bright red, and I gently raised my eyebrows at him. He shot daggers with his eyes, and I knew to stay silent.

When they got into the room, I moved to the front of the crush of people. I turned and stared at them. Maxwell and Candace were holding hands in front of the computer. Ryan had tied up all the balloons around the office and was now leaning against the window. Miranda, Olivia, and Rose were in a tight huddle, having put the heavy cloth the guys had brought in over the window looking out into the band room. Gerald and Devin had Ray sitting on their shoulders, and the top of his head brushed the low ceiling. Hayden was perched on top of the metal filing cabinet, Hats standing right beside her.

I turned back to the door and moved the black piece of paper from the sliver of window. "He's coming!" I hissed, moved the paper back, and locked the door. I stepped into my position.

We all seemed to hold our respective breaths as we heard a happy whistling coming from the hallway. There was a jangle of a key ring, metal then hitting metal, and the doorknob jiggled. The door swung open and Scott stood before us.

"Happy Birthday, Scott!" We all cried out.

It took a moment for him to process this information. Then he began to laugh. "Thanks guys. This is great! So how many rules did you have to break?"

"Break any rules?" Hayden piped up from the cabinet. "Who _ever_ said we had broken any rules?"


	11. 53: Keeping a Secret

**53. Keeping a Secret (Ryan's POV, Senior Year)**

"Hayden, you can trust me with _any_ secret." I smiled at the eighth-grader rocking back and forth on her heels.

"But it's a really secret-y secret." She said in a hushed voice. "Like, so secret, you can't tell _anyone_. Not even your _mom_."

I blessed my heart. "Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a sousaphone in my eye."

The short brunette walked over to me and her mouth came close to my ear. "I have a… Crap, it's so hard to say!"

"Tell me!" I jumped up and down in front of the blue lockers, shaking them and almost causing a baritone case to come crashing down on me.

"Date." She finally said plainly. "I have a date on this Friday night."

"Oh my gosh, Hayden! That's great!" A huge smile filled my face. "Do I know them?"

Hayden dug the toe of her right foot into the carpet of the band room floor. Finally, she said quietly, "Yeah. You do. Not very well, but you know them. By name and sight."

"Who is it? I won't tell." I pretended to zipper up my lip.

She sighed and sat on the ground next to me, her head between her knees. "Oh, I like them, a _lot_. But what if it was just a dare? All of them like daring each other, all the time. If it was only for a dare, I'd _die_."

"Percussionist, huh?" I gave her a feeble grin.

She glanced up at me. "You're a good guesser, Ryan."

My voice sunk lower on the loudness meter. "You're going on a date with Ray?"

She shook her head.

"Raphael? Kris? Travis? Jean? Wait, are you going on a date with Zeke while he's going out with Charity and that's why you have to keep it hush-hush?"

Her head continued shaking, and she laughed a bit at the last one. When her voice started up, it was muffled and hoarse. "No. They're not in any of the lower three grades in the school."

"Ah, so they're in tenth, eleventh, or twelfth?" I asked, and she nodded, her face pale. "Can I have their first initial?"

"H." Hayden's reply was so quiet I almost didn't hear it.

All I needed was two seconds of time, and then the information immediately clicked. "Hunter? Hunter Tyler? Hats?" I thought my questions would be loud, but it was quiet.

Hayden's voice cracked on the single-syllable answer. "Yes."

We were both silent for a few long moments. Then she turned to me, and her face was happy again. "You promised not to tell a soul. You're my older brother, albeit my fake one, but I wanted you to know first. I'm only telling you and Olivia. So if it gets out, I know who to look at. So keep my secret tight, okay?"

I nodded and reached out, pulling Hayden into a one-arm hug. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay?"

Hayden laughed for a moment. "Sorry. You know me, Ryan. That will be next to impossible. Me not acting stupid? I laugh at the thought."


	12. 61: Fairy Tale

**61. Fairy Tale (Olivia's POV, Senior Year)**

Life really isn't any fairy tale. In those stories we've grown up with, there's always a damsel in distress that is rescued by a wonderful prince. And then they all live happily ever after. Yeah, like that happens in the real world.

Look at Hayden for example. She's my Assistant Drum Major, and is way better at any instrument than me. She's always been a bit of a band geek, science nerd, math dork, pretty much anything along those lines. Yet she is the one who is invited to all the parties and clubs and was voted Homecoming Queen and only had to march in the parade because I wasn't there. She's also the one who's had a boyfriend since eighth grade, and it's been the same guy all four years, even though he was a senior when we were freshmen.

And there, here I am, the nerdy little Drum Major that barely has any friends, who can only be five-foot-three by standing on my tiptoes. I only had a boyfriend for around two months in sophomore year, one of the senior trumpets who had only gone out with me for a dare.

If this was all a fairy tale, I should be the one getting swept off my feet by my knight in shining armor, the knight riding by on a beautiful white stallion, and we should be racing off into the sunset towards the silhouette of an immense castle.

But, alas, no knight is racing towards me. The closest thing to any sort of knight is Scott, because he's one of the few people who are always there for me, even if he is my teacher. Like when I was freaking out before our first parade, he calmed me down. Or the time I threw up on the bus on the way home from a competition because I had been so worried, and he was the first one there with Tums and flat ginger ale. And he had been there to take me to the hospital when my favorite cousin Rose had died in a car accident just an hour before our homecoming game.

Maybe that is what fairy tales are all about. They aren't so much about the shining-armored knight, but someone coming in at your dark moments to save you.


	13. 67: Playing the Melody

**67. Playing the Melody (Hayden's POV, Seventh Grade)**

"And the marching band lists for next year are out in the hallway." Mr. Scott gestured to the door out of the band room.

The bell rang, and a fair amount of people dashed to get on the buses. I stayed behind, since Olivia's mum was picking us up so we could go to a concert later that night. "Let's go look!" She grabbed my arm, and pulled me to the hallway.

We stared at the piece of paper taped to the white board. First was the Drum Major list. Candace Rodgers was Head Drum Major, as everyone knew. And Rose Carter, Olivia's first cousin, had gotten Assistant. "Yeah!" Olivia pumped her fist in the air. "My favorite older cousin is one of the Drum Majors."

Then came section leaders. "Oh, God, Summer is clarinet section leader?" I let out a sputter of disgust. "Oh, good, Hats is pit leader; I'll have to give him a hug later."

At the far bottom was the list of Soloists. There, listed first was 'Kingdom Hearts, Sets 16-19, First Clarinet – Hayden Peters. "Olivia!" I let out a cry. "I got a solo! Oh, God, I got a solo!"

"Oh my gosh, that's great!" We both began jumping in circles and hugging and laughing.

I would be playing the melody in eighth grade.


	14. 72: Mischief Managed

**72. Mischief Managed (Miranda's POV, Sophomore Year)**

I watched as the black Ford F150 pulled into the teacher's parking lot. The crisp winter air made my breath cloud up above my head. I pulled my scarf tighter around my face. Crap, there went the fog onto my glasses. As the driver's door of the truck opened, a small amount of the snow fell off onto the already snow-covered asphalt. The short man got out, pulling his long coat tighter around him.

I watched as he scurried up the stone steps to the school. I giggled to myself as I crept closer to the truck. I heard Rose close on my heels. I glanced back at her. She was wrapped tightly in her heavy coat and her scarf was wrapped around her head, since she had lost her hat during a furious Brass and Guard vs. Woodwinds and Drumline snowball battle the day before.

I reached out my gloved hand and began writing in the snow on the back window. Good. It was the great snow that stuck to the truck, even when you moved parts of it. Graffiti snow, as we fondly called it. The first thing I wrote was 'Scott + Collins. Because gay is okay.'

Rose giggled behind me. I looked over and saw she had written 'Scott is the BD, if BD meant Big Dummy.'

I laughed and we continued writing random messages on the sides and back of the truck. Over our laughs, I heard the crunching of snow under footsteps. I looked up and saw the principal coming down the steps towards his own car. Rose and I exchanged a look and dove under the truck.

He walked closer, whistling to himself. He suddenly stopped, and began muttering under his breath. Then he said, slightly louder, "Oh, those band kids are nuts." He then continued on his way.

Rose and I let out a collective breath. We rolled out from our position and ran into the school. I ran ahead, down the eighth grade hallway, past the library, down the staircase, past the chorus room, up the set of steps, and darted into the band room for the traditional pre-first period band gathering.

I began taking off my outerwear, as did Rose. Mason walked up to us and muttered quietly, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

I gave Rose a fleeting glance and both of us whispered at the same moment with a smile, "Mischief managed."


	15. 74: Are You Challenging Me?

****

74. Are You Challenging Me? (Simon's POV, Eighth Grade)

"Give me those!" I reached out and swiped the mallets from Hats's hand.

I walked over to my bass drum, and heaved it up onto my chest. I slowly started pounding out the rhythm, increasing my speed until I was at tempo. "Peters…" Hats strode back over to me. "I know I'm not Section Leader for Battery, but I'm gonna tell you one thing. You're still never going to be better than me at first bass."

"Oh, so you think you're better than me at first bass? Do you seriously think that's true?"

Hats crossed his arms over his chest. "Peters, you were last-chair bass last year. Just because you live in the same household with an insanely good bass drummer who isn't even a bass drummer at all doesn't mean it automatically rubs off on you."

I gave him my raised eyebrows. "Just because you are passionately in love with my twin sister does not give you the right to say that she is a better bass player than me. She plays _mallets_ for percussion ensemble, not bass."

I chuckled to myself as he sputtered, turning a bright shade of crimson under his hat. "Well… That's beside the point, Peters! Besides, I'm still better than you."

"Are you challenging me, Hats?" I gave him a smirk.

"Yeah, I am. It's a battle to the death." He grinned, a menacing smile playing at his lips.

* * *

_ A/N: So I'm attempting to come off my hiatus because one of my best friends is all, "Write, write, write. Do it, do it, do it." The jerk :P  
Anyways, I'm hoping this new idea we cooked up will make my writer's block go away..._


	16. 21: Vacation

**21. Vacation (Kristifer's POV, Freshman Year)**

"Guys! You told me this would be like a vacation!" I grumbled, pulling my blanket tighter around me on the cold bus.

"It's All-Chapter Championships, Kris." Ray mumbled sleepily from the seat behind me. "Technically, it's not a vacation."

"But everyone said it would basically be a vacation! We go, we get to Finals, we practice more, we win! And have fun. Nobody ever said we would be stuck on this God-forsaken bus for nine hours."

"It was only supposed to take six, Kris. That's what we all thought." Devin said from across the aisle, glancing up and then burying his head back in a DCI magazine.

"So stop complaining." Ray turned over in his half-sleep, curling up to long-haired Cassandra beside him.

I frowned, crossing my arms tightly and shoving my clenched fists into my armpits. It seemed like the bus driver didn't know what a heater was. The bus was as cold as a freezer, and nobody had thought to wear jeans or sweaters. Just gym shorts and t-shirts. I groaned, unrolling myself from my blanket to peer over the edge of the seat behind me.

Ray and Cassandra were both pressed into each other, tips of their noses touching. _But they aren't even dating._ I thought to myself. _Yet Hats and Hayden are and they never act as much like it as every other couple on the face of the Earth does._

My eyes wandered back another seat, the second-to-last seat on the bus. Hayden had the window seat, her face in a relaxed sleepy expression, arm draped across Hats's chest. Hats's eyes were drooping, an arm protectively around his younger girlfriend. His cheek was just brushing the top of her head, a slight smile on his face.

Those two had been dating for almost six months, yet they almost didn't act like it. Then there was Ray and Cassandra who weren't even dating, but they acted like they were totally attached at the hip. It didn't seem to make any sense to me.

I sighed, turning back around in my seat, facing the front of the bus. I curled back under my blanket, closing my eyes.

This bus ride from hell was nothing like the vacation like I thought it was going to be.

The bus had been late, the equipment truck had already had two flat tires and was currently about fifty miles behind us, the bus had gotten lost somewhere outside of Valley Forge, and the heater was broken so we all were freezing our asses off. Half the percussion ensemble was asleep, and the other half was either talking or singing in off-key voices. Mr. Scott was asleep in one of the front seats, curled up in the fetal position with his mouth wide open. That had prompted a mass text forward with his picture at the head of the message as soon as his sleeping position was discovered.

"Hey. Kris." A voice came from the seat in front of me.

I got up from my laying down position and poked my head over the seat. "Yeah, Linus?"

The junior opened one brown eye to glance up at me. "Why in the name of God's green Earth did you think this was going to be a vacation?"

"It kind of seemed like it would be chill." I shrugged. "You know, go in to play and come out winning. Now it doesn't seem like that great of a trip, much less a vacation. This is the trip from hell."

Linus laughed wildly. "Vacation to hell, man. Vacation to hell."


	17. 45: Illusion

****

45. Illusion (Hayden's Senior Year)

_Hunter -_

I'm scared, Hunter. I'm honestly frightened, more than I have ever been in my entire life.

Every morning when I wake up, I'm scared that the past four years will vanish in the blink of an eye, a hoax, a scam, an... illusion.

I can't stand the thought of waking up and finding out I'm back in eighth grade, waking from a dream with some nightmare qualities. I don't want this all to have been a dream, an illusion. All in my mind.

_Every day just keeps getting better - Aerosmith._

I think that sums up the past 1,461 days of my life (isn't it awesome that I can do that math in my head now?). I go into every day expecting it to be the same as the one before, but every single day with you makes the one before pale in comparison. The days you come home, I wish the Earth would stop turning, the sun would never set, and you would never have to leave.

Even with you at school for most of the year, I still can't let a day pass without thinking of you, of us, of what has been, of what is, and of what will be. I can never let what has made my life this beautiful go by for even a day without being recognized. You're the best thing that could have ever stumbled into my life. From that first day of band camp, from that first time I saw you, everything in my life changed. For the good. No, for the better. No. For the best.

Thinking about the beginning brings back all the firsts... The first time you hugged me, after the first halftime show. That cold December morning you held my hand before school started, and then didn't let go. And that first kiss, surrounded by the final swirling snows of mid-March. And then those first tears, in the hospital after the accident.

When I'm with you, everything wrong melts away. I don't know where I would be in life without you. There's nowhere else I would rather be than with you, anywhere in the world. I could be in the coldest tundra of Antarctica, but as long as I was with you, I would be perfectly content.

But I'm scared. Always scared. That this life, this love, was all ann illusion. That it wasn't really there. But I always want it to be real, to always be my life, to always be my reality. My reality. _Our_ reality.

Hunter Alexander Tylers.

I love you.

_-Hayden_

Hayden let the pencil drop to the desk with a clang, tears dripping off the tip of her nose. She gave a weak smile, folding the letters into quarters.

Like she had back in Jr. High.

Back at the beginning.

* * *

_A:N/ So this one was created because my friend gave me a number to write to. Thanks (and Happy Birthday!), Tab._


	18. 23: Feeling

**23. Feeling (Raphael's POV, Freshman Year)**

_There's no other feeling in the world quite like it._

_The feeling of driving home in the dark, the rest of the world already on its way to dreamland. The windows show flashes of scenes, of unfamiliar houses in unfamiliar towns full of unfamiliar people._

_The rest of the world has already gone to bed, but your day is just finally ending. The shoes are muddy and covered in grass, the uniforms are drenched and soggy with rain, and everyone smells like football field._

_But there is some feeling of accomplishment there, under all the tears and tiredness and sweat and pain._

_No matter how bad the show, how fast the tempo, or how big the drumline, the sense is always the same._

_Some primal feeling of belonging, of working towards one complete and total goal, something that can catch an entire soul on fire._

_There's nothing in the world that can compare to that feeling._

_The ride home is an adventure unto itself. Some people sleep quickly after the adrenaline rushes have worn off, some stay awake and hyper the entire way home because their blood has finally started pumping after leaving the field. Some people laugh and talk and scream and giggle, while others sit and sleep and reflect._

_There's no feeling in this world like the one you get on the ride home. Nothing in the entire world can compare to that._

_That is the true embodiment of marching band._

_The indescribable feelings._

I smiled as I looked at the top of the essay, the red A-plus circled with a smiley-face sticker beside it. The topic sentence stood out in bold print beneath the name space.

**In no more than 250 words, describe a feeling.**

**

* * *

**

_A/N: This was written in a burst of energy on the way home from a football game. Yes, I know it's terrible. No, you do not need to remind me. :P_


End file.
